The swirling dome of pressurized ocean water hissed as it met the scalding heat of the desert air. Inside the aquatic sphere, Seraphina's hands glowed with a deep, pulsating azure light, channeling the ancient healing currents of the deep trenches directly into Elara's shoulder.
"Stay still," Seraphina commanded softly, her voice steady and calm despite the sweat dripping down her temple. "If you fight the flow, the cold rot will sink deeper into your core."
Elara gritted her teeth, her fingers digging deep into the scorching sand beneath her. The sensation was agonizing—like freezing needles being driven into a open burn—as the dark purple fire fought against the tide. Little by little, the creeping purple veins retreating from her neck began to dull, turning into wisps of foul-smelling black steam that dissolved harmlessly into the swirling water dome.
A long, shuddering breath escaped Elara's lips as the intense, void-like agony finally ebbed into a dull, manageable ache.
